Being an “interesting” patient who also happened to be a trainee made me a morbid little celebrity.
“I feel like I’m hyperventilating. I can’t stop crying and I can’t breathe. I’m afraid I’m going to drown on dry land.”
For seven years, I lived afraid of my own mind, only to learn it had been a mistake.
“I’ve fervently wished to see women who look like me and have lived through this.”
“Even in that happy space, doubt, disbelief, and a gnawing sadness started to swirl, rise, and create confusion.”
“My mother assumed I must have done something to bring a rare blood cancer upon myself.”
I have never been anything but this ragged, medicated self; I have never been less aware of the ground beneath my feet.